shahir zag |
Friday, November 30, 2012
random thoughts
Tuesday, November 27, 2012
Monday, November 26, 2012
Saturday, November 24, 2012
Friday, November 23, 2012
I no longer believed in the idea of soul mates, or love at first sight.
But I was beginning to believe that a very few times in your life, if you were lucky,
you might meet someone who was exactly right for you.
Not because he was perfect, or because you were, but because your combined flaws
were arranged in such a way that allowed two separate beings to hinge together.
Lisa Kleypas
joost vandeburg |
Wednesday, November 21, 2012
Tuesday, November 20, 2012
Monday, November 19, 2012
Sunday, November 18, 2012
I am tired of the words “I love you,” of “beauty,” of “romance.”
They are putting in a neatly-wrapped package a million squirming feelings,
only some of which the world would consider appropriate.
We all approve of “I love you,” but do we approve of the disgusting things
that love sometimes makes us do?
Do we approve of the fights, of the tears, of the noises when bodies squish together,
the aching thoughts of wanting to possess someone entirely?
Surely these things mean “love” more than most,
yet they imply love for parts of us that we are supposed to constantly be telling to quiet down.
Don’t quiet yours down.
Show me your ugly, and I will show you mine.
And nothing will ever be an unpleasant surprise again,
because we will have known (in a way most people do not)
that the other was a real human being all along.
Chelsea Fagan, Show Me Your Ugly
via tumblr source unknown |
Saturday, November 17, 2012
Friday, November 16, 2012
Artistii stiu - curcubeul ne arata adevarul despre lumina in care traim noi.
Noi traim in Rogvaiv.
Aceste culori, la randul lor, prin amestec pe retina, rezulta lumina 'fara culoare',
transparenta, alba. Dar sunt momente cand eu nu simt curcubeul,
transparenta, alba. Dar sunt momente cand eu nu simt curcubeul,
cand eu nu simt caldura culorilor ci o lumina rece, distanta, asa cum uneori este viata...
by bubble gum heart flickr |
Thursday, November 15, 2012
A belief is only a thought you continue to think.
A belief is nothing more than a chronic pattern of thought, and you have the ability
—if you try even a little bit- to begin a new pattern, to tell a new story,
to achieve a different vibration, to change your point of attraction.
Esther Hicks
via datura |
Wednesday, November 14, 2012
It’s Autumn. Run away to Paris. Listen to Jacques Brel. Wear all black.
Fill a mint green Ladurée parcel with macarons named after flowers.
Argue little arguments with yourself over whether or not they are too beautiful to eat.
Eat them anyway.
Get lost in the flower markets and get rescued by a French man
who smiles and tries to teach you to roll your r’s.
Melt into his accent as he points out every stolen view of the Eiffel tower.
Get lost in the Louvre, your eyes hidden between the paint strokes.
Have a picnic with him in the evening along the Seine.
You’re wearing your favorite dress and your traveling shoes are laying beside you –
the laces are fraying beautifully.
You’re having bread and cheese and wine with your feet almost dipped in the river
with all its lights of Paris like stars dancing over the surface.
The tourists are waving at you. You laugh.
You kiss the boy goodnight but your accent still isn’t right as you whisper ‘au revoir’.
In the morning you take your favorite magazine and brush your fingers
over the lovers’ locks on the Pont des Arts;
there’s a blue one with your name on it. You still feel kisses on your lips.
You take the magazine and lay it on your lap, open it, and get lost in dreams.
Thistle Magazine Dreams/ Autumn
Tuesday, November 13, 2012
Monday, November 12, 2012
Saturday, November 10, 2012
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